


From the Bloodless

by unsettled



Series: Turned [2]
Category: Blade (Movie Series), Inception (2010)
Genre: Comment Fic, Crossover, Other, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-21
Updated: 2010-10-21
Packaged: 2017-10-12 19:45:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/128383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsettled/pseuds/unsettled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur glances down at him; licks his lips, and a drop of blood wells from a careless catching of teeth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From the Bloodless

Arthur draws his wrists up, draws them by the metal rings sewn into the thick cuffs of leather wrapped around his wrists, skin warm and slightly sticky beneath them. Draws them up and hooks them to the wide bands of leather circling his own thighs, turns Eames' wrists so they rest, palms up, crossed behind his head and already straining at the bonds.

Spreads his legs a little wider, and Eames swallows back a halting breath as his arms cross tighter, as his head dips, as Arthur's knees rise above his face, his balance almost lost, drawn between his heels digging into the stone floor and his wrists, already begging to snap.

Arthur glances down at him; licks his lips, and a drop of blood wells from a careless catching of teeth. Wells, and drops, drops and spreads, heated, just to the side of the dip above Eames' upper lip. He fights the urge to lick it.

And the fight is forgotten as Hannibal settles between his thighs, pushes them apart and sucks at the fine skin of his inner legs, not biting, just teasing the skin until it is aching, until it is mottled and bleeding, but only under the skin, the smell of it sure to be driving Hannibal mad with want.

Hannibal draws fingers up the underside of his cock, light, teasing, mocking, and Eames groans. Groans and turns his head to the side, to press it into Arthur's leg, into the crease of his knee, wet, open kisses, begging kisses.

Arthur turns Eames' face away, and Hannibal pulls him forward, and suddenly all his weight is resting on the crossed, strained bones of his wrists, resting on Arthur's thighs, begging the skin to bruise beneath leather, so Eames will have something safe to lick and nuzzle and rest his forehead against tonight, when they are curled around each other in bed.


End file.
